Friday, January 21, 2011


There is a huge difference to me between honesty and bravery. Although it might be said that being honest takes a braver person, I feel bravery is a strong word for being honest.

I used to live in a make believe world, one where I was loved and mommies don't hurt their kids, daddies stay with the family, the children go to college, have the Cleaver life. That is not how it was and the truth might be hard to swallow, but it is still the truth and that is what has set me free ...

Free from the hurt so deep that I fell without a hope to return
Free from the harm that still lingers like a deep scar on my face
Free to say I am important and have EVERY reason to live
Free to do what I do best, write it out of me
Free to share who I am, every part that makes the whole
Free to know my honesty will set me FREE

I'm not saying writing the past isn't hard... but it is healing. Things I had no way of understanding then are easier to see, allowing me to finally lay to rest some of the things that haunt my soul... There are many and I mask a lot of it now for the love of my man... his heart shows through his eyes when I cry for no reason known to him, affecting me, making me live in the now and remember less of the bad. Its a great lesson for although the occasional dream wakes me, he brings me back to where I am today, a place I have longed to be all my life.

So think of it as you wish, my life was not perfect, and I write about it to get the healing. I thought of continuing on with writings from last year, but now I think I will share a story I wrote .. Hold onto your hats, this might be a bit harsh... in sight to where I've been...

This is not a poem, its a story, of when I was young, if you are offended by abuse issues please stop reading now. This is a  chapter in a series of dark stories about a child and her life, all of these stories are true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent, and the guilty.


She looked so pretty today. She had on a fancy pink summer dress, a little bit of white lace around the bottom of the dress and the shoulder straps. It was a full dress and when she twirled, it billowed out and made her look like a little pink flower. She had pretty little pink sandals to finish the look, they had a white daisy at the toe. She had picked them out herself.

It was a perfect day, the sun was bright, no clouds in the sky. It was around 78 degrees in the middle of the afternoon. She was playing in the yard with the bunny rabbit she had gotten for Easter Sunday, today.

Her mother and sister were there too, each of them looking just as happy as she was. They were eating a chocolate from the basket of goodies they got at the Easter egg hunt the church put on today. This was by all counts one of the happiest days she could remember in a very long time.

Then he pulls into the drive. Her mom, Susan, goes out to greet him with a hug and a french kiss. This is her newlywed husband, Hank. They have been married a little over 9 months now, and by all rights they look like a happy new family.
Hank is a big fan of Johnny Cash, he plays his records over and over, so everyone in this family knows the words by heart. The two young girls Sasha, about to have her 10th birthday, and Sarah, her older sister 13 next month, were dancing and singing to RING OF FIRE when the phone rang. The girls were laughing and dancing and singing quite loud, so it took several rings for the phone to be heard.
It was Susan's mother on the other end, wanting to speak to her family, wish them a Happy Easter and see if they were still going to join her for the traditional family dinner. They agreed on a time and hung up the phone.
This new family got into the car and started out for the long drive to Susan's Mother's house. It would take them about an hour and a half to drive it and Susan, who was feeling a bit tired from all of today's activities, was nodding off in the front seat. Sarah was already asleep next to her younger sister, who was blissfully singing to the music on the radio. She was quite the reader too, so every overpass they went under she said the words on the big sign aloud, excitement building in her, because she knew these signs almost by heart and knew they were leading them to her Grandma's house.
Sasha loved to go to her Grandmothers house, a place full of wonder for the child. Grandma had a beautiful garden full of pretty flowers that she let Sasha pick and put in vases. She had lots of fruit too, strawberries, black berries, boysenberries ( Sasha 's very favorite), peaches, apricots, and a few citrus trees. It was always a treat to go to her Granny's, the best place in the world.

All of Susan's family were there, her sister and her family, her cousins, which Sasha always called UNCLE and AUNT, and all of their families, in all there were 16 adults and 18 children. Granddad even showed up with his new wife and her kids.The dinner lasted for hours, and more food was added to the feast with each new visitor.
Full from the meal, Sasha went out to the garden to play, she was alone there, talking to her make believe friend, picking strawberries that aren't all the way ripe yet. Red and pink berries fill the basket she is holding, and she doesn't notice Hank watching her. No one does, as they are not aware of his bad intents.

They have no idea of the kind of man he is, the sick things he has already done to this child, but he does, and now he wants more. He doesn't even hide really, he is so good at this he doesn't really need to. He has already instilled fear into this child, so much so that all it takes is a look from him, a glance really, so little that you would miss it if you weren't knowing. No one knew but Sasha, and it scared her so bad that she wet her panties. She knew that she was about to lose the only place left that she felt safe. He wanted her again, and it didn't matter who was there, he WOULD have her.
When Hank finished his torture, he noticed her wet panties and the smell of urine, stronger now that his desires were satisfied, and found an opening to use for the child's tear streaked face... making light of the situation he took the girl up to the house, and in front of every one said...

"Look who I found in the garden, and look everyone, she ruined her new dress, pissing all over herself. Susan don't you have any control over these kids of yours?"
Then he laughs it off, turning to the young girl saying, "I would be crying too if I wet my panties like a BABY, hey anyone have a diaper for the BABY?"

Grandmother's house was never the same in Sasha's heart. She didn't like to pick the strawberries anymore either, no one ever asked her why.

Well , that is it ... let me know what you thought of it ...

Today's Prompt is Villanelle

Hope to see you joining in too at


  1. ♥♥♥
    It seems everyone has a story. Perhaps one day we'll be as brave as you and share ours x

  2. zI hope it didnt make you turn away Helena...

  3. I would agree that writing about the past is indeed healing. It deffinatly takes bravery to write about it. Your post has truely touched me, in a sense I can relate to it on some levels. It has made me think back and reflect on my own story. Maybe someday I will be brave enough to share it like the story here!

  4. when you confront your demons thats both healing and braqve but the real bravery comes when you put it in written form and publish it for all to see ,in the hopes they will understand and hopefully to find the courage to confront their own demons.Your bravery overwhelms me,thanks for your friendship,lady.